


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by monozero



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Miklan being Miklan warning, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, except glenn is here, no beta we die like Glenn, surrogate big brother glenn, teen for cussing and also the gautier family being Like That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monozero/pseuds/monozero
Summary: A Snom finds Sylvain in the mountains.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of a Snom finding Sylvain in the mountains hasn’t released its chokehold on me so here we are. Technically there should be more pokemon existing in this but I didn’t want it to turn into a pokemon AU per se, if that makes sense? Also I don’t remember if canon explicitly states the well is before the mountain but if that’s the case I’m flipping that for reasons.

By now Sylvain really should’ve figured out that no idea of Miklan’s would bode well for him. Honestly? It’s a miracle he’s lived as long as he has. Not that that isn’t about to change- it’s already pretty hopeless once the snow begins to cover any tracks left. The cold bites at his face and pierces through his clothing that had only ever been meant for a short trip out. Fatigued from the weather he had slipped down a particularly steep spot, twisting his ankle on his way into the ravine below. He had smashed through the ice- it wasn’t deep, thank the goddess, but now his clothes are wet and sucking at what little warmth he has.

Sylvain’s only solace as the sun dips past the trees is the small hollow he spots beneath a tree. It’s tight, but he manages to squeeze himself into it. He abandons his gloves and wrings what he can out of his overcoat so he at least doesn’t sit on the frozen dirt.

It’s getting harder to feel his fingers. That doesn’t scare him, at least not as much as his shivers subsiding. When he was a lot younger his nanny explained time and again the signs of the body to listen for when playing in the cold. Most of the details are fuzzy, lost to a general development of common sense, but he knows falling asleep is basically a death sentence at this point. He doesn’t want to leave Felix, or Dimitri, or Ingrid. But his eyelids just keep getting heavier, and not needing to be scared anymore is tempting.

His head begins to bob, once ominous sounds of nature becoming a sick lullaby. He’s finally ready to surrender to sleep when something bumps into his leg. Really, he should be alarmed by this, but the most he can bring himself to do is shift his head on his knees to get a look. The little thing sitting there is almost enough to convince him this is some sort of fever dream.

A Snom stares up at him with its little beady eyes. Nothing enough to matter right now. Sylvain shifts his head back to where it was, closes his eyes, and-

Bump. Bump bump.

It stops almost sheepishly when he looks at it again.

“I don’t have anything.” It sags a bit before resuming its crusade, papping at his leg. Sylvain shifts, more to ease the pain in his ankle than anything else, and as soon as the opportunity presents itself the Snom clambers into his lap. It’s cold, naturally. Yet a tiny warmth blooms within him regardless. He brings a hand to rest on its back, and it all but purrs.

“...At least I won’t die alone, I guess.” The Snom jolts under his hand and stares up at him. It almost looks… concerned.

The wind is picking up, and snow is finding its way into the hollow. With the weather getting worse the Snom will probably leave him to go wherever it considers home. It sits up a bit straighter and stares out the opening, climbing down but not leaving.

It uses protect, stopping a gust from throwing more snow in. It takes a few tiny breaths, and then it does it again. And again. And it keeps doing it until the squall subsides, when it stumbles back to his side on its tiny legs.

This time Sylvain helps it into his lap, awestruck by its strange behavior. It’s obviously exhausted, but it still leans into him and nudges him whenever it feels his hand slipping.

Still, the Snom itself is fighting a losing battle with sleep after the little stunt it pulled. Each nudge is weaker than the last until it eventually dozes off. Without the external influence Sylvain really can’t manage to stay awake himself. His foggy mind accepts that. He folds his arms around the Snom.

He will die tonight. He understands that. But at least this silly little Snom cares.

It’s more than can be said about a lot of people.

***

He wakes up.

His thawing body is buried beneath blankets and furs, effectively trapping him. A fireplace crackles across the room and while the warmth is welcome, the dry heat suffocates. His choked cough startles a squeak out of a creature next to him before it shuffles into his line of sight. The Snom stops near his chin, trills, and then scurries out through the sliver of open door.

The whole thing is so strange that he can’t help but laugh. That just sets off a whole other coughing fit and distracts him from the people bursting through the doorway.

“Syl!” Felix throws himself into his chest just too quickly for Glenn to catch him by the hood. Instinct tells him to bite back his cries but the fatigue and bone deep ache makes it impossible to fully stop. It’s just a grunt, but it’s enough for Felix’s tears to shift from relief to worry. The only consoling he manages is a quick hair ruffle before Ingrid and Dimitri make it through the commotion to his bedside.

“It’s good to see you awake, Sylvain,” Glenn attempts to play it normal, nudging Felix aside so he can help him sit up, but it’s obvious even he’s shaken. Sylvain opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to form a response. They want to hear him say he’s glad to be awake, and it’s not a _lie_ per se, but…. He tries to subtly grab a fistful of blanket, looking for any way to distract himself from the room, but the Snom wiggles its way up Felix’s leg and onto the bed to slip in for a head pat instead. It captures everyone’s attention, relieving Sylvain of the suffocating concern.

“Have to say, we didn’t expect to see you’d made a new friend,” Glenn quirks a smile in contrast to his furrowed brow. “It woke up when we went to bring you home, didn’t stop hissing until it saw Felix crying,” he quips.

“I wasn’t crying! The wind stung my eyes!”

“Right, right,” he rolls his eyes, smiling.

“How’d it get here, anyway?”

“Followed us down the mountain, believe it or not. We didn’t even realize it until we reached camp and it had a chance to catch up. It was quite the sight, watching it scurry in!”

Snom are so small, and their legs so tiny, to keep up with them had to be exhausting. Why was it fixated on him to such an extent? He had done nothing for it. In fact, it was a complete coincidence that it had even encountered him. If it wasn’t used to the cold he would think it just wanted a way out of the weather, but that doesn’t make sense here. Had it maybe seen Sylvain before, and associated him with the manor? Does it even care about being in such a well-kept place? But then, why would it be glued to his side like this?

“Syl?” He jolts. Felix looks near tears with worry, and the others look nervous in their own right.

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong? You spaced out,” he frowns.

“Wh- nothing, I’m fine!” He laughs, hollow. “Although, I think I’m tired?” Glenn watches him just a second too long.

“We’ll let you rest, then.” His friends whine, save Dimitri, who more pouts in the most un-bratty way possible, but relent without much fight. Glenn hangs in the doorway, waiting until they’ve left. “His Highness, Father, and Ingrid can only stay a few days, but Felix and I are here until you’re 100% again.” He lets that hang, closing the door with a soft finality behind him.

As much as that was an excuse, he really is starting to feel exhaustion hit. Once he’s settled back down Snom wastes no time climbing on top of him and settling on his chest. His breathing relaxes to match the rise and fall of the little guy, and he’s soon asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

After that first day, Sylvain seemingly always human company. Dimitri manages to get out of his tutoring for the visit, but that was in exchange for a promise to keep up with his training. Not that that was a difficult thing to do- King Lambert almost certainly knew he would’ve been doing so regardless, what with being surrounded by his friends, one of whom was well on his way to knighthood. It’s distracting in the best way to watch as they banter and spar until it all devolves into a facade for play. He doesn’t miss the look Miklan shoots when Glenn politely requests their little group have some time in the training grounds, but that’s really nothing new. Bitterness has twisted a perfectly reasonable request for a turn on the grounds into them being turned into a playground for a group of privileged, Crest-bearing brats in his mind. It’s nothing new, though. Nothing particularly worth worrying about.

Except apparently having the noble children around drives Miklan up a wall.

Maybe it’s because they’re all in line for something he can never have, maybe he hates seeing happy childhoods. Whatever it is, he lasts until Dimitri, Ingrid, and Rodrigue have left before it drives him to stalk into Sylvain’s room in the dead of night.

He slaps a rough hand over his mouth before he can make anything more than a strangled whine, lifts him out of the bed and forces him against the wall. Snom squeaks at the sudden commotion, taking a few seconds to fully wake up before scrambling to its feet and growling. Miklan barely spares a glance as he grimaces and swipes it off the bed, sending it bouncing across the room before wrapping the hand around his throat. He kicks out, more from reflex than an expectation that it might help, but there are spots dancing in his vision. Miklan’s talking, he can see his mouth moving, but the dizziness and the blood roaring in his ears makes it too hard to make sense of. On the ground Snom collects itself, shaking off its soreness before looking back to the bed.

Snom sees red.

“Shit!” Snom charged and lept at the elder Gautier, biting down on his leg. His scream is probably more from shock than pain- Snom aren’t exactly known for sharp teeth- but it’s enough. Miklan’s grip loosens just enough for Sylvain to drop to his bed. He tries to grab at him and Snom bites down harder, letting Sylvain blindly stumble and scramble away.

Sylvain runs far enough that Miklan shouldn’t be able to hear his footsteps and picks a random room to dive into. It’s an empty guest room, thankfully- he’d feel horrible waking up one of his friends. He crawls under the bed and presses into the far corner to wrestle his breathing under control, mumbling apologies to both no one and everyone, muffling his whimpers into his sleeve.

***

When Sylvain begins to stir it’s to a horrible crick in his neck and loud squeaking. He blinks and tries to sit up, smacking his head into something overhead.

“Wh…” He looks around, slowly piecing together his surroundings, when everything from the night before rushes back. A spike of fear surges within and he tries to scramble away, instead slamming the back of his head into the underside of the bed again. When he’s doubled over rubbing at the spot Snom crawls up to nudge at his face, looking for any sort of response. Sylvain manages a few pats, which do help him begin to get his senses back at least a little, but it all comes undone when he hears hurried footsteps in the hall. In an instant he’s pressing himself back into the corner, reaching to pull Snom over and keep it from making too much noise. Instead it dodges his hand and scurries to the door, squeaking and squeaking. Sylvain freezes in a mixture of fear and confusion. Why would it do this? It’s fuzzy, but he’s pretty sure he remembers it helping him. Doesn’t it get it? Doesn’t it get that his only hope is riding out his anger in hiding?

“Snom?”

That’s... not Miklan’s voice.

He should be relieved, and he is, but this is bad in a different way. His father’s always stressed Gautiers are supposed to be strong, fearless- that anything else is a disgrace to the name. Doubly so for a Crest bearer, even if it’s Minor. He’s not supposed to be like this. He can’t be seen like this.

A shadow passes through the doorway behind Snom, feet stopping a few paces away as it beelines for Sylvain, chirping and poking at his thigh.

Glenn squats down, eyeing the space. It’s probably a bit too small for him to get into, which makes sense- it’s already a tight fit for a sitting Sylvain.

“I think you’re on the wrong side of the bed.” He maintains a teasing tone, yet lacks any humor. Sylvain bites his lip, unsure of how exactly to explain himself out of this one. “Nightmare” is the easy answer, but if there’s any bruising it’ll give him away. Glenn looks back to the door for a moment.

“Snom, can you go close that please?” Snom glows with responsibility and gives Sylvain one more little nudge before rushing off to do so. It takes some effort, huffing and puffing audible even over where they’re sitting, but it manages.

“No one knows we’re here- not even Felix. It’s just us.” Sylvain shifts his glance to the side. “Can you come out here? My legs are starting to get sore from this,” he gestures to his squat. He takes a shaky inhale and relents, carefully scooting his way out. As much as his neck appreciates this freedom he suddenly feels very, very exposed. Glenn studies his face for a moment, then gets up to pull the top blanket from the bed and drop it on him before sitting. He waits until Sylvain’s cocooned himself to his liking, and only then does he break the silence again. Curled and concealed like this he looks meek, so unlike the rock his friends lean on.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Sylvain shakes his head. “I’m glad to hear that, at least.” He sighs. “Was it Miklan again?”

“Again?” The words are out of Sylvain’s mouth before he realizes it, though he still slaps a hand over his mouth as if it could force the words back.

“Sylvain, it’s… kinda obvious.” The boy pales. “At least, the pieces are all there. Your reaction confirmed it a bit, though, I won’t lie.”

“N-no, it’s- you’re wrong, I just had a nightmare, that’s all.” Glenn looks away with a slight frown.

“You used to always be afraid to leave Felix alone with me. You flinch whenever someone raises their voice. I’ve never seen you without a bandage, yet I’ve never seen you fall.” With each statement Sylvain sinks a bit further. “I- Sylvian, this isn’t me accusing you- you’re the only person in this mess that hasn’t done anything to be accused _of_.” Snom makes a tiny sound, almost like it agrees.

“I,” he hiccups, and a stray tear escapes. “I did, though. It’s my fault for not being strong like a real Gautier.” Glenn blinks- there’s a lot to unpack there, and he’s not exactly equipped to do so.

“Well…”, he brightens with an idea, “I don’t know anything about being a Gautier. But I might have an idea what it’s like as a Fraldarius. And right in here,” he rests a finger on Sylvain’s chest, “is the heart of one if I’ve ever seen it. So Gautier or not, you’ll always be an honorary Fraldarius. Congratulations, you’re a middle child!” That gets a weak chuckle, and Glenn feels horrible to have to ruin the moment. Right now, though, figuring this out is more important.

“I take it you haven’t told your parents?” He shakes his head. “Tutors? Instructors? Anyone?” Again, no. Given the rhetoric being drilled into him it’s not surprising.

“Please don’t tell them,” he trembles. Snom makes a little sound again and presses into his thigh.

“I won’t, as long as you promise me one thing. Let me look out for you when I’m around. My faith magic isn’t anything like my father’s, but I can at least take the edge off. And I’ll always listen, if you need to talk. Or if you just want someone around.” Snom lets out a little indignant huff. “Right, right,” Glenn laughs, “And when I’m not around, Snom’s got your back.” Sylvain’s lips stretch in a ghost of a smile as he helps Snom onto his lap and strokes its back.

“Now, what do you say we get your face washed up? Felix has been excited to play since the crack of dawn.” Sylvain holds Snom close to his chest and takes the offered hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Everything leading to this moment is a blur in his state of mounting hysteria. He remembers hearing his father yell at Miklan, going outside to try and avoid any fallout, being sought out by his brother, the fall that left him down here in the dark. His throat aches from his screams, his fingers are raw from desperate attempts to claw himself free. The darkness is all-consuming, and the silence is deafening. 

Rubble splashes down. His head snaps up, eyes lock on to the sliver of sunlight suddenly exposed. The well cover sits for a moment, and then shifts a bit more. It’s a slow rhythm until he hears it clatter to the stone floor. 

A tiny white face pops up over the edge. Snom squeaks frantically, little head darting back and forth, until it throws down a line of silk. Sylvain moves to grab onto it but the joints of his fingers ache when he tries to make a fist. With a low trill Snom lets the thread drop, then steels itself with renewed determination before leaping down into the well with him. It splashes into the water, feet coming to rest on his submerged legs.

“Snom, what-” it makes a grumbly chirrup and aggressively settles against him, screaming “I’m comforting you whether you want it or not, dummy.” It breaks him. He bundles it into his arm and lets the tremors wrack his body.

“I don’t wanna die,” he whimpers, “not like this, Snom.” It lets out a shaky, low trill, nuzzles into his neck. It wants to help him so bad. It’s wanted to ever since it first saw him lost in the snow.

Snom had lived on its own as long as it could remember, but not of its own volition. It had been separated from its family when they’d been running from the humans fighting nearby, never to find them again. Over time, it adjusted to its life of solitude, came to not mind it. And then it found a little human, alone in the snow, undoubtedly abandoned. Yes, the idea of companionship was thrilling- but more importantly, it didn’t want to see him hurting the way it did for so long. It decided, then and there, that it would look out for him.

Now it knows Sylvain, and how kind he is, deep down. It was prepared to live vicariously through him and was instead given a home of hugs and friendship. It just wishes it could do more to help him. Miklan had locked it out, whether intentional or not, and if it couldn’t get him out itself then this could be their last cuddles. The idea of losing Sylvain is soul crushing.

Warmth runs through Snom, powerful, all-encompassing, yet peaceful. Sylvain squints at the glow and almost flounders when he feels it start to shift and morph in his arms. The glow envelops the space for a moment and then fades, leaving a wholly new creature resting in his lap. Frosmoth leans into Sylvain, nuzzles its fuzzy body into him, then grabs him by the collar and lifts him from the pooling water below.

Careful as it can it deposits him on the ground, back to the stone. It’s turning to fly off in search of an open window when Sylvain holds out his trembling arms and hiccups. Frosmoth chirps and settles into the hug, feels him bury his face into its furry collar. For now, this is enough. 

Sylvain is safe. Time will heal his body, Frosmoth will protect his soul.


End file.
